


The Scarred

by DraksonNightKell



Series: Chronicles from the Light [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 13:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraksonNightKell/pseuds/DraksonNightKell
Summary: To this day, one Eliksni is known for his murderous ways, having killed plenty of Guardians while always, somehow eluding death. But how did this mercenary turn from his House to seek his own path?





	The Scarred

The usually calm and almost empty throne room of the Syriks-fel was buzzing with activity. A Captain, adorned in red armor with golden accents, made his way through the mass of Vandals and Dregs towards the front. His Kell was sitting in the throne, Archon Priest at its side along with the massive Prime Servitor. He could feel Syriks Prime looking across the gathered crowd, who knelt before the gaze of their god. The chitters fell quiet as the Kell raised a hand.

"Thank you for gathering at such short notice."

She stood up from the throne, her red-and-gold cloak shifting as she did so. Her armor was adorned with gold accents, details and symbols, and she stood almost twice as tall as any Captain.

"I know you have all been wondering what our next move is, now that we have found the Great Machine. Vendaar?"

The Archon Priest stepped forward, mandibles chittering to herself before speaking up.

"After conferring for a full cycle, we have reached a conclusion. The Great Machine have clearly chosen this alien race, these... hyumens..."

She struggled a bit with the word before continuing.

"Our savior would not choose them without reason, like it chose us."

The Kell nodded, looking over the Captains, Barons and Baronesses gathered at the front.

"So, our best option is to fight with these hyumens and their warriors... their Given. If we show them we will protect them, they will surely share the Great Machine's blessing with us. First our House, then our kind."

The gathered crowd chittered excitedly, while the Captain growled to himself. He took a step forward, towards the Kell, raising his head to meet her gaze.

"Mikras, honored Kell... you wish us to ally with those who stole our salvation from us? Why would they give back what they have taken?"

The crowd began murmuring amongst themselves, a few nods here and there. He looked back at them, feeling more confident by their apparent agreement.

"Why should we fight with them? They are weak, broken! We can easily sweep them away, and reclaim the Great Machine! It would see our strength, and once more chose us!"

More of the crowd joined in on the idea, raising fists and roaring in support. The Captain looked back to Mikras, taking another step.

"We would be stronger than ever. We would be ru-"

"Enough!"

The room fell quiet once more, shocked into silence by Mikras' voice alone. She met the Captain's gaze and shook her head.

"We are not murderers, Taniks. We are honorable warriors. Killing the Great Machine's chosen will not prove our worth."

Her harsh words caused him to look down, but he still felt the anger inside him. Surely she saw how... unworthy the Given were? Even the lowly Devils had managed to take down several of them!

"This is the last we will discuss of this. We will ally with the hyumens, showing our kind that peace is possible. Dismissed."

The gathering began filing out of the room through various doors, but Taniks remained unmoved. Without thinking, he drew his blade and aimed it towards Mikras.

"If you will not lead us to our salvation, then I shall! I challenge you to the Kell's Duel!"

The few Captains left in the room turned to look at the commotion, reaching for their own weapons. Mikras raised a hand and stepped towards him, unsheathing her own blade.

"Very well, Scar Captain. May the strongest win."

 

Without warning she attacked, Taniks barely avoiding the strike as he staggered backwards in surprise. He rolled to his left as Mikras brought her fists down where he had been standing, realizing the folly of his plan. His odds of victory against the mighty Kell of Scar were slim. He kept dodging out of the way, striking whenever he could, but she blocked them all. The battle lasted for several minutes, until Taniks got hit by a punch and fell to the floor. Before he could get up, Mikras pinned him with her foot, blade aimed at his throat. Tired and ashamed, he chittered quietly.

"You win..."

Mikras nodded, lifting her blade before looking at the Captains and Barons watching.

"Barons, hold him down."

"Wait, what?"

Taniks stared at her in confusion, beginning to panic as he was held against the floor. Mikras shook her head in disdain as she removed the armor on his lower right arm and placed the edge of her blade against it. He felt the cold metal against his chitin and tried to break free, to no avail.

“Taniks, for attempted treason against your Kell, I hereby revoke your rank of Captain.”

He roared as he felt the blade slice his arm off, the ether seeping out quickly stifled as a docking cap was placed on the small stump. Mikras moved the blade to his other lower arm.

“From this day, you will serve under Calzar as a Dreg.”

The pain felt more distant as his other arm was docked, and the Captains hauled him on his feet. He could faintly hear Mikras talking with Vendaar as he was carried away, fading into unconsciousness.

_One day… I will make you regret this, Mikras…_

 

A few months later, in a small Scar hideout in the Ishtar Sink, the Scar Dreg Taniks was picking through their latest haul from a raid against the House of Winter. He sorted the various items into piles; scrap, glimmer, weapons, strange tech… He had been doing this for weeks, sneakily pocketing away a few pieces here and there when the others weren’t looking. As Calzar came over and inspected the results, he scurried away to a small, hidden cave he had found the day they landed. He climbed inside, where his pile of stolen equipment was. He took out the few pieces he had taken from today’s haul and began working on his project. These were the last few things he needed. When the sun set tonight, he would leave this stupid planet, and the war with Winter. He would go his own path, but not before settling an old score. He waited until the outside became dark, and snuck down towards the small dock for their skiffs. He quickly knocked out the two Vandals on duty before entering one of the skiffs, powering it up and blasting towards the sky at full speed. He knew the Scarship Syriks-fel was still on orbit.

 

Once aboard the ketch, he left the skiff before anyone could come over to question the sudden arrival. As the guards were puzzled, he crept through hallways and rooms, sticking to the shadows. He had no weapons, but he didn’t need any. He had all he needed to kill his Kell. When he walked into the throne room, he was immediately spotted by Mikras. As she stood up, he lowered his head and walked forward, hands behind his back.

“What are you doing here, Dreg? Who are you to come into my throne room uninvited?”

She drew her blade as he stopped in front of her imposing form, looking up to meet her gaze. Recognition flashed in her eyes as he leaped onto her, knocking the blade from her grasp. Her four arms clawed at him, tearing apart his simple armor and cloth, leaving scars in the chitin beneath. Taniks paid it no mind; all he was focused on was her neck, and the two mechanical arms he had locked around it. Mikras struggled to break free from his grip to no avail, the strength of his metallic limbs to great. As the last breath escaped her mouth and her eyes turned dark, he let go. He looked down at his scarred body, adorned only with tattered rags and torn armor. And his metal arms. So strong, so resilient. So… perfect. He reached down and tore Mikras’ cloak of her corpse, putting it on himself.

“I am Taniks, Scar Dreg no longer. I am Taniks, the Scarred. I will bow to no Kell… I will only serve those who can pay for my services. I will kill the Given… and in time, I will become… perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> This short story's inspired by the popular theory that Taniks, "the Scarred" once was a member of the House of Scar. Same goes for Calzar, "Scarred Captain". So this is my personal headcanon for the Children of the Traveler universe. Who knows, maybe Taniks' real background is similar to this? Or maybe it's vastly different? Or perhaps, we'll just never know the truth.


End file.
